Patricia Seeley - The Millionaire Meets His Match

“Crud-ley,” Cass corrected him through gritted teeth.

“Pardon?” Mr. Howard asked as if suspecting he’d just been sworn at in some foreign tongue.

“His name is Crudley, not Cuddly. The r isn’t silent.”

Mr. Howard straightened his tie and relaxed fractionally. “Oh. Of course. In any case, I did send the boys out immediately to search the area as soon as I was informed one of the animals was missing. But on these busy streets, with all the early-morning traffic that rushes by, they weren’t able to find any sign of him.” He shrugged philosophically, apparently able to detach himself from the unpleasant reality of the fate he’d just suggested Cass’s cat would inevitably meet

“All I can do now,” he continued, “is tender the doctor’s sincere sympathy for your loss and my personal apologies for the negligence of the kennel staff. I assure you, they will be sharply reprimanded for this oversight. Naturally you won’t be charged for your cat’s two days’ board. And although there is no question of your suffering any financial loss by your cat’s disappearance, the doctor has instructed me to offer you a free replacement, with all its shots, and a free neutering when the time comes. We have several nice kittens available right now, if you’d care to pick one out. Then we can all put this unpleasant incident behind us.”

Cass felt the hot color rising to her cheeks. “I don’t want a ‘replacement.’ I want Crudley back. I left him in your care. You’re responsible. Do something.” The last words came out almost a plea, and Cass instantly despised herself for asking anything of this heartless petty functionary. Were there people who could be appeased by the kind of cold-blooded drivel Mr. Howard had been spouting? Or was she merely too inconsequential to rate a conference with the clinic’s owner himself? “I want to talk to Dr. Bellingham,” she declared.

The office manager shook his head and sighed. “I’m afraid that will be impossible. The doctor’s schedule is quite full for the next several days—the annual dog show, you know. In any case, I assure you I have followed precisely the doctor’s instructions on this matter. There is nothing further that he, or I, can do for you.”

Cass stood and smoothed the creases from her rapidly wilting summer suit. “We’ll see about that,” she said, hoping but doubting that the words sounded vaguely ominous.

The office manager smirked priggishly and barely inclined his head in acknowledgment of her empty threat, then rose fluidly to open the door for her to leave.

Outside, the late-afternoon sun still blazed high in the sky, sending waves of heat rippling up from the hot asphalt parking lot. The scorching air suddenly seemed too suffocating to inhale, and Cass staggered slightly as she tried to catch her breath.

She never should have brought Crudley to this callous overpriced clinic. She’d deliberately chosen the most expensive veterinarian in town, a man whose patrons included most of the elite in Newport society, believing Crudley would receive the best possible care from him. Now, it turned out, she had been wrong to assume he was well cared for.

Cass stalked over to her car, threw open the door and then slammed it shut behind her. Shoving the key in the ignition, she started the engine with an unnecessary roar and turned the air-conditioning on full. The cooling blast did little to ease the fevered anguish that overwhelmed her. It was too much. On top of everything else that had been miserable and hopeless in the past three days, now Crudley was gone.

Gone. The word brought such a spasm of pain to her midsection that Cass felt nauseated, such a tightening of her throat that she could scarcely breathe. She slumped over the steering wheel and rested her head on her forearms, feeling the tears well up in her eyes and overflow down her flushed cheeks.

A gentle tapping on her window startled her. Cass looked up to see Bobby, one of the kennel attendants, peering anxiously at her through the glass. She pushed the air-conditioning switch to a lower setting and rolled down her window.

“Are you all right, Miss Appleton?” the boy asked. His brown eyes were warm with concern. Unlike most teenage boys, he didn’t seem to be uneasy in the presence of someone else’s emotional display.

Cass grabbed a tissue and quickly blotted her eyes. “I’m fine, Bobby. Thanks. I just had some bad news.”

Bobby glanced around the parking lot furtively, then hunkered down beside her car, out of sight of anyone looking their way from the clinic. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I was waiting for you. I’m the one who opened up this morning and found Crudley gone.” He shot a quick look in the direction of the building, then turned back to Cass. “He’s a great cat, Miss Appleton. Not like most of them that come to this place, all pampered and spoiled with no personality. Crudley is a real character. And smart? Miss Appleton, I’ve never seen a smarter cat. You could teach him to do anything, I swear. Whenever I see him here, I make it a point to look after him myself and make sure all his instructions are followed to the letter. I would never let anything happen to him.”

Cass experienced a rush of compassion for the boy. Unlike the office manager’s prepared bromides and rehearsed apology, Bobby’s words had the ring of truth. His feelings for her plight were genuine, based on his own affection for her cat. “It’s not your fault,” she assured him.

Bobby’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, I know it’s not. That’s what I had to tell you. I’ve known Crudley for three years and I know he can pick locks and open doors on regular cages. I’ve seen him do it During the day, if I’m working alone in the kennels, I let Crudley wander around with me while I feed the other animals and stuff. Then I play with him awhile before I put him away for the night But before I leave, I always put a special lock on his door so he can’t get loose during the night. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt or anything.”

Bobby gave the clinic another surreptitious glance. “Miss Appleton, Crudley was locked in tight last night. I saw to that. And then this morning, when I got here, he was gone, and someone had left a note for Dr. Bellingham. I heard the doctor and Mr. Howard talking about it, and then I sneaked into the office after they left and looked for it. It’s just like the kind of ransom note you see in the movies.”

“Ransom!” Cass interjected.

Bobby nodded. “Yes, ma’am. With words and letters cut out from old magazines and newspapers. It said that the kidnappers had taken Princess Athabasca and would be calling Mrs. Crosswhite tonight with instructions on how to get her cat back.”

“Princess Athabasca?” Cass frowned. “Mrs. Crosswhite? There’s another cat missing?”

“No, ma’am.” Bobby shook his head emphatically. “Just Crudley. But the kidnappers think he’s Princess Athabasca.”

Cass pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. “Bobby, I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you haven’t seen Princess Athabasca. She’s a big gray cat with golden eyes.” He paused, as if waiting to see if Cass had caught on. “Her breed is very rare and expensive, and she’s a national champion, but she looks a lot like Crudley, even though he’s just a regular cat. I would never get the two of them confused,” Bobby assured Cass, “but someone who’d only seen a picture of the Princess or read a description and knew she would be here this weekend might make that mistake.”

Cass at last began to understand the significance of what Bobby was explaining to her. “So someone did steal my cat,” she summed up incredulously, “because they thought he was someone else’s cat.”

“Mrs. Crosswhite’s,” Bobby repeated. “She’s filthy rich and crazy about her cat. The kidnappers are going to demand a ransom. Only they haven’t got Princess Athabasca, and Mrs. Crosswhite’s not going to know what they’re talking about when they call.”

Cass drew a sharp breath, remembering her own conversation with the office manager. “You mean Mr. Howard and Dr. Bellingham didn’t tell Mrs. Crosswhite someone had tried to steal her cat?”

Bobby shook his head. “No, ma’am. They don’t want anyone to know about it. They don’t want the rich customers thinking their animals aren’t safe here. They even told the police there was no need to make a report since nothing was taken. The chauffeur picked up Princess Athabasca this afternoon and took her home. When the kidnappers contact Mrs. Crosswhite tonight, she’ll just think it’s some prank and ignore it.” Bobby’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Then I don’t know what will happen to Crudley.”

Cass shared his unspoken fears, even as her heart leaped with the knowledge that, for the moment at least, Crudley was alive and safe. “Nothing is going to happen to him,” she said firmly, patting Bobby’s shoulder to reassure him. She turned and looked at the blankly imposing facade of the veterinary clinic. “I’m going back in there and force that weasel Mr. Howard to call Mrs. Crosswhite and tell her what’s going on. Then I’m going to contact the police and have them put a trace on her phone so when the kidnappers call, we can find out who and where they are.” In the space of a few seconds Cass had almost convinced herself that Crudley was on his way home already.

One look at Bobby’s expression reminded Cass her problems were far from over just because she knew the reason for Crudley’s disappearance. “I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “I don’t think anyone in there is going to help you.” He made a grim face. “The old man isn’t interested in anything but the bottom line, and he mostly hires people who can’t afford to be anything but loyal. He doesn’t want any scandal or bad publicity, and he’ll lie if he has to. The official story by eight o’clock this morning was that someone tried to break in but was scared off by the alarms and never got inside. They’ve either hidden the kidnappers’ note or destroyed it, because when I sneaked back into the office during lunch to look for it, it was gone. There’s no way I can prove what I’ve told you, except for this.”

Bobby pulled a padlock out of his pocket and handed it to Cass. “It’s the one I used to lock Crudley in. Unless somebody slipped him a set of lock picks, Crudley didn’t let himself out of that cage. Someone used the key I left on the board.”

Cass stared at the lock. It was all the proof she needed. “I can’t let them get away with this,” she insisted. “And I have to do something to save Crudley.”

“I know. Me, too. I’ve been thinking about it all day, trying to figure out what to do, and I decided we should go to Mrs. Crosswhite ourselves.”

“Go ourselves?” Cass echoed, still trying to formulate a plan of action despite the tumult of emotions swirling in her head.

“Yes, ma’am. I figure if we tell her the story, she’ll want to help. She’s really a nice lady,” Bobby said with the confidence of youth. “I’ve met her when she brings Princess in. She’s a little dizzy, if you know what I mean, but good-hearted. She always pets the other animals and talks to them. She’s pretty cool.”

Bobby’s idea wasn’t half-bad. It was simple and direct, and it didn’t rely on the dubious support of Dr. Bellingham or Mr. Howard. Cass’s mind raced ahead. She would contact Mrs. Crosswhite, explain the situation, ask her to stall the kidnappers and then go to the police for their assistance. “It’s a good plan,” she told the young kennel attendant, “except for one thing. I can’t let you go with me, Bobby.”